


I Wish You All the Best (Because it's Christmas Time!)

by doc_boredom



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I dont know how to tag things, M/M, Weddings, but in reality EVERYONE DOES!, rekindled friendships, richie has an internal crisis thinking no one likes him, thank you, this is called...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 02:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17133443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doc_boredom/pseuds/doc_boredom
Summary: Since it's Christmas, let's be gladEven if your life's been badThere are presents to be had!Take a walk out in the snowAnd hear Santa's "Ho ho ho!"He's got a million miles to go.-Richie's spent the last five year of  his life avoiding his friends, his family, and Derry as a whole, but when Ben and Bev are getting married on the Winter Solstice, he can't help but make his way back.Especially when he keeps ending up in the car of a certain young gentleman by the name of Eddie Kaspbrak, who may or may not be flirting with him. He still can't really tell.





	I Wish You All the Best (Because it's Christmas Time!)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eddiefuckinkaspbrak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eddiefuckinkaspbrak/gifts).



Oh Tozier, what are you going to do?

He was seated at his desk, hunched over his laptop, bouncing his leg fast and unapologetically as he tore at a hangnail with his teeth. What are you going to do, what are you going to do, what are you going to do?

 _Wing it_ , something inside finally responded. _Like you always do_.

It was a given, he supposed. He had been winging it ever since his senior year of high school when he managed to graduate instead of being held back a year behind his friends. Then there had been the gap year that had started in Colorado before finding its way to LA, funded only by his quick thinking, the kindness of strangers, and four years worth of tip money and spare change that he had saved up inside a piggy bank shaped like a hot dog under his bed. All followed by his sudden leap into community college, something that had thrilled his parents and put him into their good graces once more. All of that had been winged… wung… wanged? No, c’mon Richie, focus.

Someway, somehow, he had landed a job in journaling before he even had his degree in it, and since then things had been steadily going up, up, up. He had a job where he could dress how he wanted, could be himself without any kind of apology, enjoy every day to its fullest. For him, _that_ was living the dream.

But despite all of his expert maneuvering and clever machinations over the years, despite winging it so god damn well, Richie Tozier now found himself completely and utterly stumped by ten whole words and how to respond to them.

(Probably because this wasn’t something he could wing no matter how he spun it.)

_You’re officially invited to the Marsh-Hanscom Winter Solstice Wedding._

Huh? What? Take it apart, part by part Tozier. You’ve got this. Also, stop biting your fucking hangnail, idiot. Or don’t. Whatever.

First things first. Ben and Bev! Now that wasn’t the surprise in the slightest, at least it wasn’t to him. Sure some people had placed bets on Bev and Billy back in the day being endgame, but they hadn’t been part of the Losers, and being a Loser meant you just knew certain things that other people didn’t. Seeing it stated so officially caused Richie’s heart to pull a real Grinch on him, growing three times in size inside his chest, beating loud and proud for his dear old friends.

Okay, got that. Next. The Winter Solstice. Now that was a little confusing, if he was being honest with himself. But after a bit of toe tapping and hmm-ing to himself Richie had made sense of it. No one wanted their anniversary to be on Christmas after all, and something in him had a feeling that the solstice appealed to Beverly aesthetically. People came home for the holidays anyways, so it fell into that perfect sweet spot, really.

Check and check. Location? The address was somewhere in Derry, a given, so he’d have to fly out after finals. Maybe he could even convince his parents to pay for the ticket. Come on mom and dad, I’m your only son, don’t you want me back for Christmas? He’d work on his pitch...

So that left only the words at the top. No, the _implication_ behind those ten words. _You’re invited_ , if he broke it down even further into just two. Him! He hadn’t talked to Ben or Bev or Bill or Stan or Mike for that matter in nearly five years. Richie had booked it out west after graduating with no kind of explanation or even a good-bye, just needing time to find himself outside of their little group. And yet here they were, looking to pull him back in again with open and welcome arms.

Right?

He hadn’t RSVP’d yet. Richie kept telling himself he had to check the flight times, his schedule, his nonexistent calendar of all things. Do things like get the time off and make sure all his homework was done beforehand. But those were just excuses when it boiled down to it. Really it was the fact that Richie was nervous. Gut twistingly, brain numbingly nervous. He was recently turned twenty five, hadn’t graduated, and here two of his oldest friends were getting married! What else had they managed to do in five years?

Any of them for that matter?

“Oh internet, what say you?” He whispered as he opened his laptop reverently, looking to find the answers.

Apparently, all of them had significant others.

Stan and Mike had apparently paired off and now ran an online blog that detailed their amazing travels, all fueled by Stan’s quest to find exotic birds across South America. Their most recent entry informed readers that they would be collaborating with up and coming author (and long time friend) Bill Denbrough, and that they were excited to return home for the holidays for their friend’s wedding to relax and celebrate.

Richie had heard about Bill’s debut a whiles back, but hadn’t really followed up on it. He had apparently broken the NYT bestsellers list with his first book and besides speculation on his next title outside of the work he was confirmed to be doing with Stan and Mike, the only other thing that caught Richie’s attention was the rumors surrounding him and up and coming starlet Audra Phillips. “Get it, Billy.” Richie murmured to himself, hoping to stave off his jealousy.

Bev, it appeared, was into fashion and Ben was into interior design, and Richie had a feeling that any day now they’d be the next faces of Target brand exclusive clothing and furniture. They just had that well put together but approachable look about them. Like you didn’t just want to be their friends, you _needed_ to be.

And then there was him, Richie realized as he closed his laptop. So far behind it wasn’t even funny. How had they managed this shit before turning 25? He pushed his dark curls back from his face and groaned under his breath, leg still bouncing up and down. Don’t compare yourself to them, Tozier. You got a job, you’re making it happen in one of the most exciting countries in the US. You got to write up concerts and new restaurants and strange new trends. It’s not like you work at In’n’Out.

But still. They all seemed so much more grown up, so much more competent and well put together than he was, and that didn’t sit well with him.

Yes or no. It was one or the other, but so much fell between those two options. Saying yes meant going back to Derry, his roots, facing all these people that he didn’t even manage to friend on Facebook after all this time. But saying no meant that Beverly would see his lack of response, and she’d tell Ben, and maybe they’d talk about it with everyone at the wedding too. Can you believe Richie didn’t make it? What is he even doing? Has he even graduated? He writes for what website? Oh wow, he _would_.

Before he could overthink it, before he could help it really, his fingers graced the mousepad and made him press YES.

Because why the fuck not?

Richie scrubbed a hand across his face and drew in a deep breath before uttering a loud and damning “FUCK!” at the top of his lungs, not caring what his neighbors would think. “Fuck.” He said again, softer this time, much more nervously too.

So much for winging it.

He had some planning to do.

-

His parents were overjoyed at the news, his boss, however, not so much.

“Christmas _where_ now?” She leaned over the table to stab at his Poke bowl, scooping up all the best parts. “Gary?”

“Derry, Maine. Where did you even… Never mind. It’s in Maine.” Richie huffed in response, whapping her wrist with his chopsticks in futile warning. “Also stop! Stop eating my shit! You should have ordered the unagi donburi if you wanted it so bad!”

Rochelle rolled her eyes and tossed her hair, looking smug. “But then who would write about the Avocado and Negitoro _don_ , Rich? Come on now. You know how we operate here.” She stole another bite, humming as she did, causing the male to cross his arms over his chest as he bit back an annoyed groan. “Give me a reason why you should go.” She challenged, mouth unapologetically full.

Richie spluttered and threw his hands up into the air, incredulous. “A reason? Like what? Tis the season? My family is there? I’m morally obligated to support my friends…?” Nope, none of those were sticking, he could tell. Richie slumped down in his seat before picking at his bowl dejectedly, not sure of what to do. “Rochelle, what do you want me to say? I’m already giving you like, plenty of notice.”

She cocked her head and twirled her chopsticks around, letting out a thoughtful sound. “I think it’s time you wrote profile feature. About yourself. I want the Richie Tozier story. What got you to leave Derry and come to LA, what have you learned, what’s changed there. Shit like that.”

This time Richie balked, nearly choking on his rice, managing quite the coughing fit as he choked it down. Rochelle did shit like this all the time and usually he vibed with it, but this was something else. Personal. The dark haired male opened his mouth to object but she held up her hand, silencing him. “That’s the deal Richie-Rich, take it or leave it.” She smiled, red lipstick still perfect despite having eaten nearly all of his bowl and all of hers too.

Once again it was an easy enough choice, a simple yes or no, but millions of if so-maybes-what ifs stretched between them.

“You don’t even want a piece on Bill? Or Stan? God, I’ll even… even review the venue.” Richie bargained in a hushed and hurried tone, folding his hands on top of the table as he did. He didn’t care if it looked desperate because he _was_ desperate. “I’m literally the most boring person in the world, Roch. No one wants to read about me.”

Rochelle tsk’d above him before smacking the top of his head with her chopsticks, causing him to yelp. “Richard, your pieces are some of the most popular we have out there right now. You can tell a story, you have this voice that just resonates with younger readers. You’re a walking, talking shit post and that’s like, the in thing now. And if we’re being honest, I know exactly when you got this wedding invite because your personality? It’s taken a complete nosedive since. Like, schmuck city, population you. So if you really want to go, I think you gotta do some self reflection while you’re there, get back to being the Tozier we all know and love before I gotta write you up.”

Had it been that obvious? He rubbed the back of his head and frowned. It wasn’t exactly easy to crack jokes when all you could think about is what you were going to say to your childhood friends that you hadn’t seen in five years though. “Okay, fine. So say I take your shitty deal. When do you want it sent in by?”

Rochelle let out an excited squeal. “Christmas Eve! You’ve got a lil over a week to take some time for yourself and write to your heart's desire! I know it’s gonna be great. I’ll _also_ know if you get Bill to write it for you, bastard man.” She smiled then, cheshire, leaning in close as she did. “Speaking of, if I can get you a copy, do you think you can get it signed?” Of his book, she meant. Richie bared his teeth and kicked her under the table, not having it. How dare she force him to write this shit and then use him like this. Bullshit. “Ow! Fucker! Do you want to hoof the bill or what?!” She shrieked.

“That’s what the company card is for!” He shouted back.

“Abuse permits me to rescind your privileges.” Rochelle pointed a threatening finger at him, nostrils flaring. “Don’t fuck with me, Richard! I’ll ruin you. Make it so you never get another job in this city ever again!”

His mouth fell open in shock. “Fuck you!” He threw his chopsticks up into the air, beyond frustrated...

...Only to watch them come down onto their server’s poor head.

And as Rochelle literally fell onto the floor laughing as the server glared at the both of them, Richie couldn’t help but think that It was probably good thing he was leaving for Derry in December after all.

-

He forgot how god damned cold it got here at this time of the year.

Richie ducked down further into his old ass coat, gritting his teeth at it’s threadbared-ness. He’d probably have to invest in a new one while he was here, or at least a pair of gloves, bare minimum... “C’mon, c’mon.” He growled out, breath puffing to clouded life in front of his very eyes, causing his glasses to fog up as well. “Where’s my fucking Lyft?”

It should have been here by now. He was waiting for some tiny bopper Honda, bright cherry red. He hadn’t even bothered to look at the license plate and driver information after booking it, opting to stuff his phone into his back pocket as he blew into his now free hands instead.

His phone rang and he couldn’t help but groan. Of course. Of fucking course. “Yullo?” He managed after a too long struggle, wincing at how painful his frozen fingers felt around the phone.

“Is this Richard Tozier?” Another voice asked on the other end, slow and unamused.

“Uh, yeah, are you… are you my ride?” He looked around, trying to spy anyone chatting away on their phone. “Or is this someone else?”

“Oh no, I’m your ride alright.” The voice on the other end sighed, clearly annoyed. “Where are you?”

“...Uh, the uh… the gate…” He jogged past the doorway entrance and looked up, squinting until he found the sign. “Gate three.” It was a tiny airport, after all. All the way in Bangor sure, but still.

“Yeah but are you at arrivals or departures?”

Richie blinked. “Uh…” Good question, strange man on the phone. “I don’t… know…” He finally admitted. “I’m like, one of the few people left here, and the closest guy is Chinese so I don’t think I can really ask him. Well I can, it’s just not going to go over w-”

“Richard.” The mystery man sighed again, not having it.

“You can call me Richie!” He interjected eagerly, not caring.

“Richie.” Despite there only being two he drew the syllables out long and hard. “Just wait, you’re in departures apparently. I’ll be there soon.”

The call ended and Richie was left standing there in awkward, leftover silence. Alrighty then. Someone was probably not going to get a so great tip. Back in LA he was pro at this whole ride share business, wasn’t his fault he was out of his element, freezing his ass off in Bangor, Maine. That’d probably be the first thing he’d put into his profile feature. _I don’t like the cold. I absolutely and completely abhor the cold._

A honk sounded in the distance, startling him, causing him to look this way and that until he saw the Honda. Finally! He grabbed his bag and booked it, glasses jostling dangerously on the end of his nose as he did. “Hey, sorry again for like, the inconvenience.” He said as he popped the passenger door open. “Should I, um, put my bag in the back?”

Their eyes met over the collar of the other’s peacoat and Richie was taken aback by how young the other boy was. He had sounded so much older on the phone! They had to be the same age, practically, maybe he was a lil younger... “I’d prefer that, yes.” Damn. There was that voice again, cool and controlled, the perfect kind for NPR. Before the journalism thing had happened Richie had been thinking of dipping his feet into the radio broadcasting pool, but it hadn’t really worked out in his favor.

He hopped into the front after putting his suitcase away, adjusting the seat to make up for his lanky legs. “So, we’re heading towards Derry?” The driver asked, pushing back his dark brown hair off his brow. It was a pretty penny to pay to get all the way from here to there but he was still too young to rent a car, and not to mention his parents were both at work, so this was the only option. It still sucked though.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry about the mix up by the way, I uh, grew up here but it’s been five years, and even then I never really came to Bangor unless it was for a birthday or something, and flying? That’s like, the second time in my life I’ve been on a plane. Maybe third, now that I think about it.” He blabbered on needlessly, looking to fill the empty space of the car, the lack of music or radio chatter that he was so used to in LA setting him on edge.

“It’s alright. Doesn’t happen too often but it does.” The other male sniffed, starting to make his way out of the airport, his car taking the speedbumps with practiced ease. It was god awful early, only five AM on a Saturday, and it didn’t take too long for them to be the only car on the road. There was no snow, unfortunately, just barren trees and the breaking dawn light on the horizon as far as the eye could see. Richie was filled with such a sudden melancholy at the sight that it nearly took his breath away. Had it really been that long? Four years and then some?

Quiet settled between them and Richie shifted down into his seat, wishing he hadn’t forgotten his headphones back home, praying his sudden sadness would go away. He ought to appreciate the change of pace. LA was always talk talk talk, never taking a moment to just relax, but he got antsy when it was so quiet he could hear his ears ring. “So…” He ventured. “What’s your name?”

Richie looked up just in time to see the driver giving him a pointed look. “You didn’t check the app?” He drawled.

“Well, my fingers were getting frostbite…” Richie pulled a face, still not caring what the other thought. He probably wouldn’t ever see him again anyways.

The other male adjusted his hands to be at the nine and five on the wheel, sliding his eyes forward once more to focus on the winding road. “It’s Eddie.” He finally said, soft as could be.

Eddie. It was nice, simple, easy. “Eddie the Lyft driver. I like it.” Maybe he could write a piece about different rideshare drivers after this. They all had their own stories, their own reasons to do what they did, he supposed. Richie sat up a bit straighter, pulling his phone out of his pocket once more. They did have an hour… Maybe he could get a head start. He started his recording app, angling it up towards the other male just subtly enough not to be found. “So what makes a nice boy like you drive all the way out to the Bangor airport at five AM on a Saturday in December, Eddie?”

Eddie drummed his fingers across the curve of the wheel, brow cinching, not noticing his phone. “I’m like any twenty something, I’m just trying to make money, pay my rent and my bills. What makes some guy with a fading tan and half a coat show up in Bangor after five years? That sounds a hell of a lot more interesting.”

Richie wasn’t expecting the tables to be turned on him so suddenly, so savagely for that matter. He fiddled with the zipper on his poor excuse of a coat, biting at his bottom lip awkwardly. No reason to lie. Might as well tell the truth. “My friends are getting married, apparently. So I’m here to show emotional support, because that’s what you do.”

Right?

Eddie’s grip loosened as he cut him another look. Richie found it to be unreadable and wasn’t sure how to feel about that. “I mean, yeah. But you don’t sound that excited about it. Sounds kind of like you’re going to a funeral instead.” Richie winced then and nearly pulled a frayed bit of skin on the inside his lip, tonguing it back into place uselessly the moment after.

“Yeah, well, probably has to do with that five year thing you mentioned earlier.” Richie finally responded, breaking their shared look by glancing out the passenger window instead. Talking had been a stupid idea, after all.

A minute or two had to have passed, probably more, but there was no way to keep count in the near dark like this before Eddie broke it willingly. “Well, it can’t be that bad right? Or they can’t, at least. You have to say yes or no to these things, and it’s not like it was last minute.” He offered, surprising Richie. He _did_ have a point. He could have taken back his invite at any time over the past three months since he had gotten it and he _hadn’t_ . “Shit happens. I mean, you think my Ma likes that I’m driving cars and strangers around for a living? _Pshaw_ , she gives me an earful every night. Eddie, you’re gonna get shot! Eddie, someone’s gonna puke in your nice Honda that I bought for you. Eddie this! Eddie that! She’s crazy, I tell ya.” He rolled his eyes before giving a loud snort. “She’s gonna be the death of me.”

“Every night?” Richie sat up, intrigued, secretly grateful that the conversation wasn’t focused on him anymore.

“She wishes it was twice a day.” Eddie’s mouth had begun to curve with a smile and it was a lovely sight, Richie couldn’t help but think. “She’s a real hypochondriac, my ma. Sits around and watches Fox News all day, gets all worked up over absolutely nothing.” Richie laughed despite himself and Eddie followed suit, his whole body relaxing into his seat with it. “She texts me through the day telling me what she’s watched.”

“No.” Richie breathed out. His own parents were religiously tuned into CNN, thankfully aligned with his left leaning tendencies. He couldn’t imagine if they watched Fox. Wentworth? A Fox and Friends fan? No way in hell. “She does _not_.” He didn’t have to fake the disbelief at this point. It was too much to handle.

Eddie shook his head, laughing more now, hard enough to make his shoulders curl with it. “She does! I’d show you, but you know, I kind of have to do my job.” He gestured at his phone, the map on the screen informing them that they had another forty five minutes to go. “You’re not missing much, Mr. Tozier.”

“Aw, I give you permission to text and drive, Eddie. If the officer asks, it’s on me.” He popped his own collar, a proud grin snaking across his face. “Hell, if it’s still Redemacher, he’ll remember me. Take one look at these babies and go ‘oh fuck, it’s Tozier, Richie Tozier’s back in town.’” Richie waggled his glasses at Eddie, at least, he hoped it was Eddie. He was as blind as a bat without them, especially in the dark.

Eddie snorted under his breath. “Sounds like I’ll get into even more trouble if I go that route, so I’ll have to pass. You really cause enough trouble in Derry to be known by the police there?”

Richie shoved his glasses back on and smiled despite himself. “Me and Beverly were real shit starters. That’s who’s getting married, by the way. To the sweetest guy you could know, hilariously enough.” God, how many school suspensions had the two of them wracked up together? He missed Bev, Richie realized in that moment. Missed her hellfire hair and spitfire personality. Missed Ben too, who was always there to get them when they got too drunk at a party, who always had the patience of a saint and the smile of an icon. “They’re like, weirdly perfect for each other.”

Eddie hummed, pleasant and low. “That’s always nice. Marriage kind of freaks me out though, if we’re being honest.”

Richie slapped his hand down onto his thigh. Finally! Someone with some common sense! “Fuck, I thought I was the only one! And not to be a dick but we’re all like, twenty three-four-five, you know.” Some of them couldn’t legally drink until two years ago and suddenly people were committing their entire lives to one another? How in the hell did you just decide to do that? Richie threw up his hands, flapping them about. “Love is great and all, but it’s all so… official, you know? Set in stone.”

Eddie perked up in his seat with a nod. “Oh, totally. I know a lot of it boils down to benefits for people though. You know, seeing each other in the hospital, the tax shit.” Quiet fell once more but it was infinitely more comfortable this time around despite the weight of the subject. Richie eased into it, unable to keep his lips from curling up at the corners. It was nice just talking like this. Real, without feeling the need to be funny for show. So many people expected that of him based off his writing, but it got old fast. “Sorry, was that weird?” Eddie added after another pause, frowning slightly. He must have not looked over...

“Pshh.” Richie reassured him easily. “Not at all, I totally get it. Don’t sweat it, Eds.”

It came out so naturally that Richie didn’t even realize he said it until he looked over and saw Eddie’s wide eyes. “Uh, is that… was that not okay?” Great, now he had gone and really said something dumb. Typical.

“No, no uh. I just… No one’s ever called me Eds before.” A pause followed and neither of them seemed to know what to do with it. Richie wasn’t used to not knowing what to say, after all. “I like it though.” Eddie admitted, surprising him. “Gonna have to start using it.”

“Oh what? No. You can’t tell me that no one’s ever called you Eds and then hand it out all willy-nilly. No, I get a thirty day hold period on that one.”

“Are you even going to be here for thirty days, Mr. Tozier?” Eddie asked, brow raising in silent challenge. How had they gone from snippy conversation to this? Whatever had happened, Richie loved it. Took to it like a fish to water.

“It’s Richie, and ten.” He confessed. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t hold you to it. I’ve got eyes and ears in Derry that can tell me if you’ve gone and broken our contract.”

“And what happens if I do?” Eddie was really smiling now, dimples and all.

“As if I’d tell you. I want you to assume the worse, Eds. Stay up every night thinking about the terrible, awful things that are going to happen to you.” They reached the first stoplight Richie had seen since they left the airport and in that moment Eddie turned to him, his profile painted in the bright red light.

“Thirty days, huh?” He whispered, still smiling.

“Thirty.” Richie said back, voice just as soft.

The light turned green but Eddie didn’t go quite yet. He stayed there with his foot pressed to the brake, his eyes alight. “It’s a deal.” He reached over and Richie was certain it was to shake his hand on it, but instead all he did was turn on the radio before starting to drive again.

Wham’s _Last Christmas_ filled the car, and Richie wasn’t sure what to think for the next thirty minutes, except that Eddie was going to receive an amazing tip plus a five star rating, and that he was also very, very cute.

-

It hadn’t been awkward leaving Eddie’s car. Instead, it had been sad, in a sense.

That was all Richie could think about as he lay in his old bed. He hadn’t even opened up his suitcase, instead just ripping off his clothes and climbing under the covers in a t-shirt and his boxers, eager to get back to bed.

He had stood there for a moment when it had happened, looking at the other male, cold fingers tight on the handle of his suitcase. “Thanks again.” He had blurted, causing Eddie to roll his eyes.

“It’s kind of my job.” He said at first, then seemed to pause, reconsider, features rearranging themselves into something much more softer. “But you’re welcome, Richie. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

It was six AM. His parents were early risers but not that early. They had texted him the garage code and told him the door was unlocked. So why did he just keep standing there? Maybe because Derry felt strange and unnatural to him now. Alien. There were all new restaurants when they had drove in, the movie theater had been remodeled, they had even gone and redone the streets…

It felt like Eddie and his little Honda were the only things he really knew now.

“Yeah uh, I don’t have a car, obviously.” He had managed a small laugh. “And you know, the US government still won’t release their teleportation machines to the general public, so it’s probably pretty likely.”

Eddie said something under his breath on a huff of a laugh, something that sounded a lot like ‘teleportation machines’ and then shifted the car into drive. He still didn’t move though, keeping his foot on the break, just like he had at the light. “You want me to stay around until you get inside?”

How considerate of him. Old fashioned, even. What an absolute gentleman. Richie smiled at him but shook his head. “My parents don’t hate me that much, Eds. I’m good. Go get that money.”

Eddie smiled wide one last time before pulling away.

Richie watched him drive off before making his way over to the garage. It had been as easy as walking in the front door, managing his shoes off, and sneaking his way upstairs before flopping onto his bed. Sleep was fickle though, doing it’s best to avoid him. It had been the same on the plane and he was running on fumes at this point. “Fuck me, I guess.” Richie said as he pulled out his phone, managing on his glasses once more.

And that’s when he noticed the recording app was still running.

He very nearly threw his phone before clutching it to his chest. He had totally forgotten he had pressed it in the first place, and now he just had all of that on audio. A whole hour of him and Eddie just talking.

He stopped it finally, then started it from the beginning.

“So what makes a nice boy like you drive all the way out to the Bangor airport at five AM on a Saturday in December, Eddie?” His past self posed the question in a low and seeking voice, causing past Eddie to sigh.

“I’m like any twenty something, I’m just trying to make money, pay my rent and my bills. What makes some guy with a fading tan and half a coat show up in Bangor after five years? That sounds a hell of a lot more interesting.”

He hit stop again, rewound it, closed his eyes and listened again, this time the whole way through...

...Until he finally fell asleep.

Sometime later, when the sunlight was golden as it fell through his blinds, Richie woke up again. It had to be past noon. There were sounds from downstairs. His mother’s voice soft but carrying as she spoke to someone on the phone. His dad would be well into his workday by now. He still had his phone cradled in his hand, it’s screen dark now. Poor thing was probably dead. He dropped it onto the bed and stood up, stretching his limbs out. Ten days in Derry, Tozier. What were you gonna do with them?

He made his way downstairs after slipping on some sweats, delighting his mother the moment he turned the corner. “Richie’s up, Richie’s up, I have to go!” Maggie Tozier was a tiny thing that was filled with love and worry and too many Food Network recipes for her own good. She hugged him now with her everything, nearly managing to squeeze the breath out of him. “Mom.” He gasped out, only half faking it. “Ease up!”

“I’m so happy you’re home. Really, actually home.” They had come and visited him a few times, sure. But he had never come back to Derry until now. Was that weird? Probably… He hugged her back, settling into it, only to jump at her next words. “You _would_ come back for your friends, of course, not your family.”

“Mom!” Richie flushed. “It’s not like that…”

“Mmm hmm, sure.” She waggled her finger at him, a knowing look coming upon her still youthful features. “Ben and Bev are getting married and suddenly you can make the time to come out here. I see how it is.”

“Mom…” Richie groaned. He should have known to expect this, but still, it was a lot to process. “I’m twenty five, can we _not_ do this?”

She let him go, gazing up at him sternly. “Your father isn’t going to say anything, so I have to do twice the parenting in half the time, so you’re gonna get it Richard.” Her frown replaced itself with a fond smile, her triade apparently done. “Now, howabout you sit down and let me whip you up something to eat?”

It was the perfect excuse to stay inside for the day, but something told him he had to go out there and face his friends eventually. He swallowed against the lump in his throat, the nervousness in his chest, and forced himself to speak. “Can we plan for dinner instead? I uh, I wanna see what’s changed in good ol’ Derry.”

Her earlier frown was back but it was edged with thoughtfulness this time around. “Well,” she started. “I suppose that would work. I can tell Went to grab some groceries on his way home too, make a real feast.” And that’s all it took, apparently, because she was reaching up to ruffle his hair fondly, apparently in agreement. “You get dressed then. No sitting around at home on your laptop. You do that enough as is.”

“Yeah, yeah, and my eyes are gonna melt out of my brain, I know.” He chuffed a laugh. Secretly thankful for the fact that he didn’t have to start his profile yet. “Thanks mom.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to her cheek, because that’s what good sons did, after all. And he was a good son, damn it.

He ran back upstairs and grabbed his phone, his portable charger, his wallet and his secret stash of cigarettes too. Went about layering his clothes to the best of his ability, anything to stave off the cold. He was nearly out the door when his mom caught him at the last second, clucking her tongue at the sight of his jacket before throwing a scarf around his neck, a green as a freshly felled Christmas pine. “Did you make this?” He laughed into it, the wool itching his nose. “When did you get so old?”

She shook her head at him sternly, eyes narrowing into vicious little slits. Teasing mother’s is also what good sons did too. “It’s called a hobby, Richard! Now go on and get!”

And so he did.

It was crisp and for a moment Richie stood on his front porch, unsure of where to go. When he was younger he would make his way down to Bill’s, so familiar with the path he could do it with his eyes closed. He’d make snowballs too in the winter time, throw them up at the bare branches while he practiced his impressions, hoping to have another one down by the time he turned onto the Denbrough’s street. Was Bill even home yet? Was anyone?

And then it hit him.

Georgie.

Denbrough numero two.

George Denbrough had been an honorary Loser growing up. It had been hard because there were five years between them and the younger boy, so a lot of it had been George trailing after them on their heels, theirs to keep watch over when Bill and George’s parents had had enough. He had to be a senior now, and probably Richie’s best bet on getting the inside scoop before he went and fucked everything up with his old friends.

Everything just hinged on whether or not he was home.

At least the streets were the same here. Even some of the decorations dotting the front lawns and houses were the same after all this time. It felt like he was sixteen again, thirteen, ten again… Eighteen years. He had spent eighteen years in Derry for Christmas, watching the carolers crowd the Paul Bunyan statue, teasing Stan about his Jewish traditions while stealing all his chocolate coins, wishing and praying for a white Christmas snowfall.

Now he just wanted to get through the holiday without fucking anything up.

He wished Eddie was here. It’s an odd thought, but Eddie had seemed like the odd one out, just like how Richie felt. “Hanging out with an eighteen year old?” He’d probably say, hands shoved into his peacoat pockets, brows raised. “Nice one, Richard. What’s next? A trip down to the local Chuck-E-Cheese?”

“Yeah, well… he’s the best bet I got.” Richie muttered to himself as he looked up at the Denbrough house. Had it always been this small? No, you’ve just gone and grown up, Richie. You’re an adult now. He curled his toes inside his boots and approached the door, steeling himself hard. He knocked once, twice, three times then, just to make sure. Please don’t be Bill, please don’t be Bill…!

The door squeaked opened and he held his breath. “...Richie Tozier?” A voice he didn’t know asked.

He opened his eyes, surprised that he had even closed them in the first place, and found George Denbrough looking right back at him. Taller yes, and older, but still brown haired and freckled in the way he remembered. Richie smiled, unable to help himself, because it appeared as though his luck was finally changing for the better.

But then someone taller and older rounded the corner, with red hair and blue eyes and a million questions framed in the slim length of his face. Someone Richie _definitely_ knew. “Well I’ll be duh-damned, it really _is_.” Bill Denbrough grinned. “Hey there stuh-stranger, luh-long time no see.”

“Aw fuck.” He said before he could help himself, causing both Denbrough’s brows to jump before they started to laugh loud and hard.

“B-Beep Beep, Richie.” Bill warned between giggles, his eyes bright.

“Yeah!” George chorused. “Beep beep!”

Somethings, it seemed, never changed.

-

Sharon Denbrough had gone and made Christmas cookies and they were _delicious_.

“She’s been at it since Thanksgiving, as usual.” Georgie informed him, having apparently spied his expression of delight. The younger Denbrough had his books and notes spread out across his side of the kitchen table, apparently a week behind the rest of them for his own finals.

Bill sat opposite from him, and next to him was Audra Phillips of all people. It appeared as though the rumors were true. They looked perfectly imperfect together. She was wearing some hand-me-down fisherman’s sweater with dark leggings with ankle socks. Bill in a cardigan with some jeans, some local coffee house shirt underneath. She leaned against Bill, snuck a cookie, made eye contact with Richie for just a few moments before popping it into her pert mouth. “So.” She broke the silence first, mouth still full. “Who are you again?”

He felt his cheeks flood with heat. “Richie’s an old fuh-friend, babe.” Bill supplied, giving her a warning look. Richie still couldn’t believe he had that damned stutter of his after all these years. As damning as it was though Richie couldn’t help but think it suited him in a way. Audra shrugged and grabbed another cookie, looking pleased as punch. “Wuh-when’d we all m-meet again?”

“Elementary school.” Richie said, probably a little too quickly. “Um, fourth grade, specifically.”

“As t-ten year olds duh-do.” He spoke like a writer, Richie noticed that too. Not every word, but from time to time a phrase would slip out of him with a certain weight to it. “Because of B-Buh-Bev.”

Bev had brought them together. How else would you have brought together a loudmouth like him, shy Stanley, loner Bill, new kid Ben, and Mike the bookworm? A girl, of course. A culmination of them and more. Beverly Marsh was the manic pixie girl you always heard about but even better. Because she was real, and she was fun, and she was theirs.

“So, how’s LA been?” George asked, purposefully ignoring his papers. Richie knew that mood all too well and leaned in towards the other, ready to enable it more.

“Hot and busy and awful, just how I like it.” He grinned. “I meet famous people like, all the time.” And he did. It wasn’t a lie. How many times had he slipped into a Lyft or Uber and found himself sitting right next to someone stupidly famous? Or infamous for that matter. Not to mention restaurants, shows, hell even just street corners!

“Like Ryan and Matt, from Supermega?” Georgie leaned forward on his elbows, eyes widening with excitement. “Or like, even anyone from Game Grumps! They’re all in LA!” He had heard those names, but didn’t have any faces to put to them, so all he could do was shrug. George didn’t seemed phased, however. “I’d freak if I met Arin Hanson in my Uber.” He said under his breath, gripping his pencil eagerly.

“R-Ruhmember Pewdiepie, Rich?” Bill mused, stealing another cookie. “Isn’t he r-ruh-racist now?”

Richie snorted and rolled his eyes. “I don’t think that’s a now thing so much as it is a yeah, that’s always been the case thing, Billy.”

Bill threw his head back with a loud laugh, taking them all by surprise. “You nuh-know what, y-yeah, you’re r-ruh-right.” He waggled the last little bit of his cookie at Audra, who stole it right from his fingers with her teeth and tongue. “Racism as-suh-side...”

“That’s a sentence.” Audra hummed, cutting him off. Bill gave her a look which she returned with an innocent shrug. “What, it is?”

Bill wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in tight, causing Audra to smile and snuggle in closer, the two of them not so much puzzle pieces as they were just two halves of a whole. “It’s nuh-nice to have you b-b-back, Rich.” He said, voice warm and kind.

Here he had been, worrying nonstop about it, and it had been so easy to fall into without a second thought. Like he had been made for it, made for Derry and it’s residents. How many times had he sat at this table with Bill, across from each other as they pretended to do their homework? Trading Pokemon cards and watching Disney Channel after?

“It’s been pretty nice, so far at least.” Richie couldn’t help that last part. There were still nerves stirring deep inside him. The idea that somehow, someway he’d do something stupid and remind them of how he fragmented himself from their group, made himself something _other_.

“I agree.” George said. “Because I don’t have to do my homework while you’re here.”

“M-Muh-Mom’s gonna fuh-freak if you don’t, George.” Bill warned, causing Georgie to blow a raspberry, clearly unimpressed

“When does she not freak, Bill?”

“He’s got you there, Bill.” Audra snickered.

“W-what is this, guh-gang up on B-Buh-Bill hour?”

“Ah, _now_ it finally feels like I’m home.” Richie sighed sweetly as he stretched his arms out across the table. “Bullying Bill, just like he deserves.”

George smirked, reaching over to elbow his brother in his side. “Too bad Bev’s so busy otherwise I’d call her over and let her really lay into you, Bill.”

“Speaking of.” Richie interjected. “What uh, are you guy’s getting them for their wedding gift?”

George looked at Bill and so did Audra, pinning the already sweating redhead in the middle. The older Denbrough rubbed at his forehead as a heavy frown settled across his features, shifting back into his seat, causing Richie to wonder just what in the fuck was going on. “Yes Bill, what are we getting for Ben and Bev?” Audra pondered, saccharine sweet.

“Yes, Bill, what was that gift again?” George challenged.

Bill’s frown grew even more as he sat there and Richie couldn’t help but feel a little bad for putting the other in the spotlight like this, but then again, it had been a simple question, really… “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t know.” Richie didn’t so much as say as he offered the sentence like a god damn olive branch to the other male.

“Oh, he knows alright.” Audra popped yet another cookie into her mouth, causing Richie to wonder how she stayed so slim. Rochelle did it too though. Girls were just magic like that. “I just wanna hear him say it.”

“It’s a suh-suh-surprise, okay?” Bill swatted both of them, his face nearly as red as his hair. “So sh-sh-shut it.”

A surprise for Ben and Bev. Maybe this is where he started to look in from the outside, unsure of what was happening. It was like when you heard an inside joke and everyone else took to it but you. Richie pulled his phone out, eager for a distraction, eternally grateful for his portable charger. “Are Stan and Mike here yet?” It made sense to ask it, and in reality Richie just wanted to get it out of the way.

“T-th-they’ll be showing up t-tuh-tomorrow, actually. I’m puh-puh-picking them up from the airport. S-speaking of, how’d you get here, _when’d_ you guh-get here R-Rich?”

Oh, you know, I ordered a Lyft and got paired up with the cutest guy possible and made him laugh not just one time, not two, not even three, but multiple times! Can ya believe it? He nearly went and blurted that outloud but caught himself, raising his shoulders in half assed shrug. “Red eye flight in from LA, got a Lyft home. Surprised we even have Lyft in Derry if we’re being honest, Bill.”

“You’ve missed out on a lot of things, Richie. We’ve got an Escape Room downtown now, and a Target real close! Not to mention the bubble tea shop.” George informed him.

Audra let out an over exaggerated whine at that, grabbing at Bill’s forearm.“Which a certain NYT best selling author still has not taken me to, the bastard. Actually, can we go now, please? I need my fix. Richie, tell Bill you want to go get bubble tea. He’ll listen to you.”

“W-what? Says who?”

“Says me!”

“N-no, babe, it duh-duh-doesn’t work that way…”

Oh yes it does. Richie batted his lashes behind his glasses, pitching his own words with a wheedling whine. “But Bill, I want bubble tea and I want it now.” Audra threw him a grateful look, the complete opposite of Bill’s damning glower. Richie didn’t really care though. He was having too much fun.

“Bubble tea, bubble tea!” George started to chant, looking to be part of the fun apparently, pounding his fists on the the table. “We want! Bubble tea! We want! Bubble tea!”

“F-fine, alright, we’ll get b-b-b-buh-bubble tea!” Bill spluttered. “You b-buh-bastards.”

Maybe things were going to go fine, after all.

-

He didn’t see anyone else until the weekend came.

After their little bubble tea adventure, Richie went home, and he stayed there for the next few days, becoming the ultimate hermit. His parents had appreciated it of course, and his anxiety had appreciated it as well. It was cowardly, sure, but he had excused himself even further by attempting to begin his profile piece.

And getting _litcherally_ nowhere with it.

He was getting stir crazy at this point though, desperate to get out and about. He could walk, sure, but why not take the gamble of seeing a certain rideshare driving twenty something again? Richie checked his hair, his teeth, his everything before placing the order, watching closely as his driver was selected.

And there he was.

Eddie.

He had picked the library of all places. It was across town, at least, so he had some kind of excuse for why he had taken an Lyft instead of just walking. And hey, money was money, right? If Eddie really was going to call him out on it he’d just threaten to lower the tip.

But not really, of course.

He pulled up five minutes later and rolled down the window before Richie had even made it down the porch. “I thought this address looked familiar.” The other boy called out to him, wearing sunglasses now, looking dashing. God, who said dashing nowadays? Apparently Richie Tozier. “Look at who it is.”

“Just can’t keep me away.” God bless whatever smooth talking son of a bitch persona had decided to take over in that moment. He threw himself into the passenger seat and smiled at Eddie, unable to help himself. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow at him. “Is three days a while, Richard?”

“Richie.” He corrected Eddie automatically, not missing the way Eddie dipped his head in a pathetic attempt to hide his smile. “It’s Richie, Eds.”

“Richie.” Oh he liked when the other said his name like that. Two syllables graced with a half smile, spoken like a secret for just the two of them. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“In a small town like this, going three days without seeing someone is like going a whole year.”

“So what’s five years equivalent to?”

Richie snorted and shook his head. “Eons.” How many people had given him a second look on the street only for recognition to flit across their features as they made their way to the bubble tea bar? Wentworth and Maggie’s boy was back in town! _The_ Richie Tozier, class clown and trouble maker, joker extraordinaire… At least no one had tried to talk to him, ask him where he had been, what he had been doing all this time.

He wouldn’t have been able to bear it.

“So you’re like, the prodigal son.” Oh no, Richie hated that. Hated how right Eddie was, and that he hadn’t come up for with it by himself. Now that he thought about it, it’d be the perfect headline for his profile, wouldn’t it? “Ha! You should see your face!” Eddie barked out a laugh.

“Shouldn’t you be driving?” He lobbed back. They were still just sitting in front of his house, a fact that Richie only minded because he was sure his parents were watching. Eddie shook his head put his hand on the gearshift and with that they were on their way.

He really shouldn’t but Richie pulled out his phone again, on the off chance that Eddie would say something for that _totally_ happening rideshare piece he’d do in the future. Clearly not just because he liked listening to the other talk as he fell asleep like a podcast, of course. For the first couple minutes it was just quiet, but then Eddie reached over and turned down the radio, getting Richie’s hopes up. “So.” He started. “Did you meet your friends?”

And just like that they were dashed immediately. He scratched the side of his face and sighed through his nose. “Only some of them. Bill Denbrough-”

“The author!” Eddie exclaimed, cutting him off. “You’re friends with Bill Denbrough!?”

“Oh God, not you too.” He was glad only Eddie and Rochelle seemed to know he was friends with Bill. He couldn’t imagine if anyone else did. “Listen, I can ruin your perfect illusions about Billy Boy in seconds, Eddie. I’ve known him since I was ten, and I’ve seen some shit.”

Eddie threw one hand up off the wheel before bringing it down again and Richie found himself smiling despite himself. “Okay, so I assume the meeting with Bill went badly, then?”

“Oh no, complete opposite, it was…” He paused, fully realizing it in that moment. It _had_ been amazing. They had all sat in the bubble tea bar, swapping drinks and stories like teenagers all over again. “It was nice.” He said in a much softer voice.

“...Well that’s good.” Eddie’s voice was just as soft. Richie hoped his phone would catch it. “I’m glad. I hope everything else works out for you. If anything, I mean, you’ll have a ton of interesting stories to tell, no matter what.”

“Yeah, that’s one way of looking at it.” The library was fast approaching. Richie wished he had picked somewhere else. “Hey uh, question.”

“Answer.” Eddie replied.

“Ha-ha, I’m the funny one in this car, alright? Don’t you start.” Richie warned. “Anyways, if you had to get your friends a wedding present and you hadn’t seen them in five years, what would you get them?”

“...Well, that depends.” Eddie mused. “What are these supposed long lost friends of mine like?”

Christ, Eddie really kept him on his toes. Each little zippy one liner and pointed comment was getting him more and more into the other, pulling him further down the rabbit hole. “One’s into fashion, and a crazy bitch. At least, she used to be. Most signs point her still being the same, but you never know. The other is the nicest guy you know, like, is probably Jesus reincarnated. He likes to make things, and make friends even more, and watches out for everyone else, but he’s also like, the underdog, so yeah.”

“You have… interesting friends, Richie Tozier.” Eddie said slowly. “And unfortunately, we’ve arrived.”

That’s never stopped you before, Richie nearly said, but Eddie was apparently not done talking. “So, you’ll have to get my answer on our next shared ride together.”

Was Eddie… flirting with him? Richie gave what he hoped was a sauve and demure chuckle (the audio would tell, he realized moments later.) “Oh, is that so?” He managed, voice only cracking once halfway through.

The younger boy smiled that beautiful smile of his, pushing his sunglasses up onto the crown of his head as he did. “It is so. Now uh, enjoy your QA session, Richie.”

His what now? Richard looked towards the library, slowly making sense of what he was seeing. A large line of people trailing out the door, and not for Bill Denbrough, the sign at the front informed him.

No, it was for Stanley and Mike Hanlon, local (and loved!) Derry celebrities, one day only, from noon to one thirty.

“Fuck.” He whispered, because that was becoming a habit now, apparently.

“Friends?” Eddie asked innocently as he put the car in park.

“Friends.” Richie confirmed.

-

Richie kept to the back after he got inside, which wasn’t the bravest thing in the world, but at least it was better than just not coming at all.

Part of it was because Eddie watched him get into that line. The other part was because he needed to do this. He saw Bill near the front once he got inside, presumably there to join in if needed, but Audra and George were nowhere to be found.

Stan was still made knife sharp and reed thin, but Mike had bulked up since high school. Trekking through the rainforest and doing all the heavy lifting would do that, Richie supposed. It was so funny seeing them seated at the front of the room, a slideshow of beautiful photos going on behind them as they fielded all sorts of questions. What was their favorite place to go? What’s their favorite bird? Will you ever travel to another country? How did you two meet?

Richie could have answered that last one. Yes, Bev had brought them all together as the Losers, but Stan and Mike and Ben had been the second half. It had been her, Bill, and Richie at the start of it all.

They had been sitting on the playground, passing a container of mini M&M’s between them as they watched everyone else play. “I want new friends.” Bev had stated neatly one day, causing Bill to look up with wide eyes and Richie to steal back the tube before Bev could eat any more.

“So you’re just ditching us?” He shot at her her, rattling it in a semi-threatening way. In fact, the prospect terrified him, but making jokes was the only way he knew how to handle big and scary things.  

“No, no. You’re still part of the group, but I just want more. Greta has like, a hundred friends, and I hate that bitch.” She and Richie were the only ones who swore at age ten. Bill didn’t dare. “I say we all pick one kid off the playground, and then we’ll test ‘em to make sure they’re up to standards.”

“And you call Greta the bitch.” Richie shook his head before grinning. “I like the way you think, Marsh. Are you in, Bill?”

His stutter had been much worse back then, so he simply nodded, and that was that. The game was on. “Okay. Fifteen minutes to pick a kid, bring ‘em back here or else.” Bev threatened with a wild grin, and they both knew it wasn’t an empty one.

Bev ended up picking out Ben (which is why Richie had known that they were end game, even then) Bill found Mike Hanlon, and he had found Stan. His friendship attempt, of course, had started with a highly inappropriate joke about Stan’s yamaka.

But Mike and Stan. Now that had been an interesting one. Richie leaned back against the wall, eager to hear how they recounted it.

“Well, it was all the way back in fifth grade.” Mike started.

“Fourth.” Stan corrected him softly as Richie mouthed it to himself silently at the same time.

“Fourth! Time flies! Our amazing friend who’s getting married later this week, Beverly Marsh, she’s the one who brought us all together, with her soon to be husband too! We were on the playground, right Stan?”

“With Bill too.” Stan nodded. “And she just tells us that she has three trials for us to pass, and of course none of us know what’s going on.”

Richie waited for his name to be mentioned but it never came. They went through the whole thing, nearly verbatim. About how Bev made them get on the roundabout and spun them at a hundred miles an hour only to force them to immediately walk in a straight line from one side of the playground to the other (none of them managed it.) Then about how they had to race around the entire outside of the school in under a minute (again, none of them managed.) And then finally, the last challenge.

Stealing one of Greta’s bracelets.

They weren’t expensive, by any means. Bev knew she got them from Claire’s, but Greta treated them like 24k diamond encrusted bangles. She’d take them off and lay them on the curb when she played basketball, knowing full well no one would dare so much as look at them the wrong way unless they wanted to face her wrath.

It was Mike who volunteered, surprising all of them. Stan and Ben watched him with Bill and Richie and Bev, none of them knowing what to expect. “I almost got away with it too.” Mike said in a low voice. “And Greta, I don’t know if you’re here, but I’m so sorry for being a dumbass back then. Really, it was… so stupid now that I think about it.”

It hadn’t been stupid when Greta had caught him red handed, only for Stan to save the day though. Mike literally had the bracelets in his hands, all of them the crazy bastard! When Greta turned towards him, her eyes going saucer wide as her mouth fell open to loose an awful banshee scream. Stan bolted then, faster than when they had run their lap, landing right next to Mike like those those birds he loved so much.

“I dared him to!” He had shouted in a high and imperious voice at Greta, surprising  all of them. “So get mad at me!”

“And why would you want them!?” Greta shrieked, her little face red as a tomato as the rage burned through her entire body.

“And then I said a terribly self deprecating joke that was borderline anti-semitic at my own expense, and Bev laughed so hard she nearly passed out, and the rest is history.” Stan said in the present, shaking his head despite himself.

Stan had forgotten to mention the part where Ben got to stay because he had heard the joke and went “damn!” before he could help himself. Bev had a thing for rule breakers, and for loyalty and general bad-assery too, so she proceeded to deem them all worthy to join their little group and the rest had been history. Richie had never been happier at the time, and now he couldn’t feel worse. Richie Tozier wasn’t a part of Stan and Mike’s world anymore, it seemed, and they were much better off without him.

He should leave. He already had his phone out, fingers swiping through his apps to find Lyft, but fate had different ideas. “R-Richie.” Said the only man with a stutter he knew.

Fuck. “Bill!” He slapped a smile on his face, hoping it wasn’t too fake. “Hey, bud.”

“W-where have you buh-buh-been?” Bill asked, keeping his voice low. Richie felt his fake smile slip despite his best efforts, becoming a full on grimace that was borderline a frown.

“At home. Parents needed some help with some stuff.” He hoped Bill would take the hint and leave it, but of course things couldn’t be that easy, now could they? Bill gave him a flat, disbelieving look and Richie tried not to think about how quickly he started to sweat in response. “What?” Richie hissed under his breath.

“Ig-nuh-nuh-noring us, more like.” Bill whispered furiously. “Why do you k-kuh-keep doing that?”

Oh God, he couldn’t do this here and now of all places. He swallowed and gave a sharp shake of his head. “I didn’t… I wasn’t… Bill, c’mon.” He gestured to Stan and Mike, still talking. “Are we really going to do this here?” He could have done this at his house, damn it.

“You kuh-came looking for us t-then, that was duh-duh-different. Then you just d-d-duh…” He was getting upset, relapsing into habits from when they were kids. He scrubbed his hair back from his face and managed a frustrated noise before opening his mouth again. “Disappeared!”

Bill hadn’t meant for it to be that loud, Richie’s sure of it, but it bursted out of him so suddenly that everyone had to turn and have a look see. Mike saw him first, and then Stan, and even from here Richie could see the confusion and disbelief on their faces.

“Richie?” Someone said. Maybe it was Stan, maybe it was Mike, maybe it was the imaginary Eddie he’s made up in his head. He didn’t know. All Richie knew was that he had to get out of there, fast.

“‘M sorry, I can’t do this.” He informed Bill, sounding much more in control than he actually felt. “Excuse me.”

He was out of the library in record time. Stupidly enough, something deep down inside of him wanted someone to follow after, but the majority of him wanted them to stay away. Far, far away. “C’mon, c’mon.” He begged his phone, not daring to look over his shoulder. “Please.”

A Lyft rider showed up that wasn’t Eddie, prompting him to cancel it. Richie waited a whole five seconds before trying again, only to have the same result pop up. He gave a desperate little laugh before canceling it again. What now, Tozier? What the fuck are you going to do?

Wing it, he told himself, before starting to walk.

The problem with walking was yes, it was actually quite a whiles away from his house to the library. Cars had that magical ability to make everything shorter, after all. There was also the fact that it was December, and the East coast had this way of changing the weather on you no matter what you were expecting, so without any kind of warning Richie found himself walking in the freezing rain.

Fuck.

He stood in the deluge for a moment, not really sure how to react. Call it poetic justice or just desserts or whatever the fuck you wanted, but take away the purple prose and all you were left was awful and cold. It snuck its way down his back of his jacket, soaked his hair, his boots, his everything. He didn’t know when it started but eventually he was crying, tears mixing with the rain, the shudders that ran up his spine and shook his shoulders the only indication that something had taken a hold of him from deep inside.

Richie pulled out his phone one last time, numb fingers slipping off the wet screen of his phone. “Please.” He whispered miserably, holding back a desperate sob. He just needed something, anything to go his way.

It wasn’t Eddie who showed up on his phone.

It was someone else.

Someone he couldn’t believe until he pulled up in a slow crawl next to him, leering all the while. “Tozier.” He grinned an awful grin as Richie stared at him, trying to make sense of what god he had wronged for things to go south so fast.

“Bowers.” He finally managed thickly, hating the fact.

He cocked his head to the side, looking unimpressed. “Get in.”

Richie didn’t want to but what other choice did he have? He shoved his phone into his back pocket and forced himself to move. One waterlogged foot in front of the other, Richie. You can do it. He didn’t want to though. God, did he ever not want to. His younger self would be shocked and offended to see him willingly sharing space with the same fucker who had bullied him for years on end. It was ironic really. Henry had stolen his lunch money how many times? Now he was giving it to him willingly. He didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. “The fuck you doing standing in the rain for, re-”

“Do you talk to all your customers like that, or am I just special?” Richie snapped before the insult could be hurled, slamming the door behind him. “If you shut the fuck up and leave me alone, I’ll give you the biggest tip you’ve seen.”

Henry smirked, his mouth pulling the same way it did five plus years ago, revealing his crooked teeth. “That’s fifty plus dollars coming out of your pocket, Tozier. You sure you can swing that?”

“If it gets you to leave me alone, yeah, I think I can manage.” Richie bit out, blood running hot under his freezing skin.

He heard the sound of a lighter and then they were off. Of course Henry would smoke in the car while he drove. Richie was tempted to pull his pack out too, but instead he just sat there, looking out the window blankly, ignoring his god awful thoughts. “Let me guess,” Henry pondered, his tone mocking. “You’re back for Ben and Bev’s wedding?”

“What’s it to you?” Richie growled. “I thought I told you to shut the fuck up?”

Henry laughed around his cigarette, smoke puffing out between his lips. “Like I’m gonna listen to you, loser. Jesus.” He drove the complete opposite from Eddie. Only one hand on the wheel, leaned back into his seat as they sped down the streets, devil may care if they lived or died tonight. Bastard. Fucking bastard. Could you just up and get out of a Lyft? Was that acceptable? Fuck, fuck, fuck. “I’ve seen all your little friends around town. You’re the first one I’ve managed to pick up though, trash mouth. What’ve you been up to?” It wasn’t a nice question, by any means. It was the kind of question that dug under the skin, the kind of question that was the last straw for Richie Tozier on this day.

“Well for one, I’m not driving Lyft for a living, because I’m not a talentless fuck. And two, it’s none of your fucking business what I’m doing, Bowers. So shut the fuck up and take me home or drop me off right here, because I’m not playing this game with you of all people, asshole.” He could have stopped there but he couldn’t. He _wouldn’t_. His rage was a living thing, burning through him, the words spitting out of him like venom. “I’m not ten anymore. You don’t get to fucking shit all over me and expect me to just take it.”

They came to a stop so abrupt Richie almost hit the dashboard with his entire body. “Listen.” Henry snarled, pointing a threatening finger at him. “You’re right. You’re not ten and I’m not twelve and yeah, you don’t have to fucking like me, but don’t get to shit on what I do, either. I’ve got a kid to support, alright? And I don’t got any other way to do it, so you keep your fucking high brow, first class mouth shut, alright?”

Henry Bowers? Had a kid? Richie had known the other had dropped out back in the day… but the rest of Henry’s life had remained a mystery to him. Rightly so, he tried to justify to himself before the guilt crowded in. Richie’s throat clicked as he tried to swallow, mouth working uselessly. “I’m sorry.” He finally choked out, too quietly to be heard apparently, or maybe just loud enough, but not with the right words, because all Henry did in response was roll his eyes and start the car again. “Henry-” He started.

The older boy cut him off before he could get another word out. “Howabout you shut the fuck up and we call it even, alright?”

And so he did.

Because it was all he could do, really.

They pulled up to his house and Richie couldn’t move fast enough. He hated being in this car with miserable Henry Bowers and his chain smoking habits, with his crowding, damning thoughts, with nothing but the sound of the car’s wheels tearing up Derry’s streets to keep him sane. He didn’t even bother with a thank you, slamming the car door behind him as he ran away. Just like old times, eh Richie?

“Hey!” Henry called after him at the last second, when Richie’s fingers had already clawed their way around his front door knob and his body had managed to wedge itself halfway through the door. “Richie!”

He paused, only because that was the first time Henry had ever called him by his name.

“...Sorry.” He said after too long of a moment.

“For?” Richie called back, unsure of where this was going.

“Everything!” Henry yelled back. “Christ, what, do you want me to hand write you a note and give it to ya? I was a bully, and I’m sorry. Getting a kid… put a lot of that shit into perspective for me.” Richie saw the way Henry’s shoulders tensed before he worked his jaw from one side to another. “...My pop sure wasn’t any help.”

It wasn’t okay but it _was_. When it had come out that Butch Bowers hit his son it hadn’t really come as a surprise during their high school years. Just a sad, sad reality. The fact that Henry was trying to make something of it, be better… It was a start. That was where it mattered. “It’s in the past, Bowers.” Richie finally called over to the other male. “Don’t think about it too hard.”

“You callin’ me stupid?” Henry hollered before revving the engine. “Maybe I’ll see you around, trash mouth!”

And before Richie could get out another word, he was gone.

His own desperate need for a cigarette was getting to him but Richie knew the moment he walked through that door his mom and dad would know, so he tamped it down and shuffled his way through the front door instead. “Home already?” Wentworth Tozier called from the other room. “That was fast!”

“Yeah, ‘m gonna take a shower.” His boots squelched loud enough to cause him to cringe but his mom didn’t come running at him so Richie assumed he was in the clear. For now. Richie bundled his coat up into his arms and forced himself up the stairs. You faced your friends (not really) and your old rival (okay, rival was stretching it, more like life long antagonistic force) and you had survived. You could handle a few stairs, Richie.

It was the draw of a hot shower and the fact that he could crash into his bed right after that compelled him to take those stairs as quickly as possible. Shower, sleep, ignore your problems-slash-your friends, stare at the computer and hope that inspiration hit only to end up with nothing again. Lather, rinse, repeat. He could do this for the next ten days just fine.

Until trouble came knocking at his door.

Literally.

“Richie!” His mother’s sweet voice called up the stairs after his shower was done. “You have a visitor!”

He froze, towel still draped over his head, another wrapped around his waist. Who? Who could be here? Eddie, something answered moments later, eager and hopeful. Eddie was here. “Why the fuck would Eddie be here?” He hissed at his reflection. “It’s Bill, obviously”

His reflection made a face before countering. “But what if it’s not Bill?”

“Don’t play this game.” Richie pointed his finger before drawing back, shaking his head. “Christ, am I really talking to myself?”  
His reflection grinned despite itself. “Yeah, are you?”

He had to get out of here. Stat.

“Did you hear me Richie!? You’ve got a guest!” His mom called up to him. “It’s not nice to make people wait!”

“GIVE ME A MINUTE, MA.” He yelled at the top of his lungs.

“WHY, ARE YOU NAKED?!” She yelled back, causing Richie to slap his hands over his face in mortification. “THAT’S RIGHT, I CAN YELL TOO MISTER.”

“ARE WE YELLING?” His father wondered loudly, apparently deciding to join in. “HAVING RICHIE BACK IN THE HOUSE REALLY HAS BEEN SUCH A DELIGHT, MAGGIE. REALLY, IT’S LIKE HE NEVER LEFT!”

“OUR LITTLE RICHIE IS RIGHT WHERE HE BELONGS!”

He couldn’t pull on his sweats fast enough. Christ almighty! “WHAT AM I, FIFTEEN AGAIN, CRIPES!” Richie shrilled. “C’mon!”

“You started it, mister. Now come on down and say hello.”

God, all he wanted for it was to be Eddie. There was literally no reason as to why it should be but he was so desperate to see the other at this point. He fixed his glasses just in case, pushed his damp curls back, and quickly cleared his throat before taking the stairs down to the foyer. “Hullo?” He called down to whoever stood there with his mom at the front door.

“Long time no see.” Beverly Marsh answered back.

Because of course she would.

-

Bev looked exactly the same as she had five years ago but _not_.

Her hair was short. The shortest Richie had ever seen it. Sprining up around her head like a fiery crown. She handled her slice of pizza with a grace the likes of which Richie had never seen before, artfully gesturing with it before bringing it to her mouth. “I missed weekend pizza with the Tozier’s.” She murmured after swallowing, touching a napkin to her mouth daintily. “It’s been too long.”

“Well, we had to now that Richie’s back. It’s a necessity.” His dad said with a fond wink in his direction. Richie slumped further down in his chair and shoveled another piece into his mouth, not caring how rude it seemed. He was stressed, damn it. If he wanted to eat his feelings he would. “Mag’s had me on a diet for the longest time, but Richie’s helped her realize it’s all for naught.”

“Oh, the moment he’s back on the west coast we’re getting right back into it, Wentworth. Don’t you think that just because you can eat it now means you can eat it later.” It was weird. Despite his mounting anxiety he hadn’t been able to help but notice how _in love_ his parents were. It was one of those things he had taken for granted growing up, apparently. He watched them now, the way his father touched his mother’s cheek softly and carefully only to pinch it playfully moments later. “Went!” She huffed.

“Maggie~” He hummed back lovingly. “Darling. I love you, but you’re wrong.”

He looked across the table and found Bev there grinning at him. He tried to return it but his mouth faltered before flattening out into a grimace. He still hadn’t said anything to her besides that first hello. He didn’t trust himself to…

Bev wasn’t fazed. “Elfie and Paul are doing the same thing. He got them an early Christmas gift joint gym membership. I’m sure she can text you the details if you’re interested, Maggie.” She took another bite of her pizza, chewing happily. “Maybe even Richie wants to get in on the fun.”

There she went, dragging him into a conversation he had no right being a part of. That was Bev for ya. He glared at her from over her glasses, unable to help himself, remembering all the times she had done it when they were younger. She beamed at him in return, showcasing a mouth full of pepperoni pizza, the complete opposite of her earlier, dainty self.

“Oh, I bet they’re excited for the wedding.” Maggie babbled, apparently not noticing the strangeness. “Paul’s walking you down the aisle, right?” Bev’s stepdad was the cream of the crop. A real winner, fifty times over when you compared him to her asshole birth father. It was good to hear that he and Elfrida were still going strong after all this time. “I bet he can’t wait.”

Bev gave a huff of a laugh. “If we’re being honest, they’re starting to drive me up the wall a little. All the last second stuff. That’s why I decided to get out of the house. And a little birdy told me that you were in town, so that’s why I’m here. Well, that and the pizza, clearly.” You. She meant him when she said that drawling single word, putting him in the spotlight.  How in the hell did he respond to that?

“Without Ben?” Apparently that’s how. Loud and blurting. Unapologetic. She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him before sipping at her glass of wine, back to being the perfect princess.

“He’s actually out of town until Monday.” She informed them. “He got a project-”

“So close to the wedding?” His father interjected with a chuckle. “Cutting that one close.”

Bev p’shaw-ed playfully, flapping her free hand casually. “Oh, he just wants more honeymoon money. That’s why we’re doing it here, after all. If it was up to me we’d be hauling everyone out to Hawaii.”

But Bill’s afraid of flying. You couldn’t get Billy boy on a plan if you paid him, bet him, even dared him! He wouldn’t. Then again, that had been the Bill Richie had known five years ago. Maybe he had changed… Richie slumped further down in his chair, wishing he had more wine in his cup. “But enough about me, I wanna hear about our favorite lil shit.” She kicked him under the table, eyes lighting up in delight. “Richard.”

“Beverly.” It was out before he could stop himself. The threatening, playful cadence the same as it had been all those years ago. She gave a pleased laugh, like she won something, causing Richie to blanch.

“Oh, how I missed you, ‘Chee.”

Once upon a time Richie fancied himself in love with Bev. But he saw the way Ben looked at her, and Bill too, and knew that he wasn’t as good as either of them, so he had tucked that part of himself away where it wouldn’t bother him. But there had been times where she had kicked his leg under the table with a knowing look, shared her cigarettes with him in the dark of night… he was certain it’d make itself known now, especially when she spoke his name so warmly.

But then he thought of Eddie. Eddie, who’s last name he didn’t even know! Who was a complete mystery to him if he was being honest with himself. But he thought of Eddie all the same, and realized that that part of him was gone now.

He still loved her though.

Just as a friend.

“I missed you too, Bev.” He kicked her now, tapping his foot against her ankle, not missing the way her smile grew. “But I don’t wanna talk about me.”

“Why not?!” She squawked, causing his parents to laugh.

Because I’m nothing compared to all of you.

His pizza settled in the bottom of his stomach, causing him to grimace once more. “Eh, I’ve just been… doing school work.” He shrugged, hoping that would be the end of it, but his parents were here and they weren’t having any of that, of course.

“He writes articles for a website, I’m sure you’ve heard of it.” Maggie informed Bev. “Real funny stuff! Some of it goes over our heads. You know, millennial humor, but it’s still good!”

Bev kicked his shin again, giggling now. “That’s so cool, when can I read one?”

Now? Never? Whenever the fuck you want? Richie felt his cheeks flush before he pulled out his phone, shoving it across the table at her. “No time like the present, I guess.” He mumbled, knocking his glasses back with the back of his hand.

So they sat there, the four of them, three Toziers and a Marsh, soon to be Hanscom, waiting with bated breath. Bev took the phone and sipped at her wine daintily the whole time, eyes scanning the article at a leisurely pace. “You could give Bill a run for his money.” She said after she was done, shocking him to the core.

“Don’t fuck around!” He had actually plucked up one of Bill’s books at the grocery store after seeing his friend, finding it all too easy to read when his angst wasn’t acting up on him. “He’d kill you.” She couldn’t mean it. She just couldn’t.

She smiled. It was knife like and savage. “I’d like to see him try.”

Richie was hit with sudden inspiration. Stupid, slightly drunken inspiration. He stood, wine sloshing in his head, mouth still tasting of pepperoni pizza. “Beverly Marsh.” He intoned. “Have you had a bachelorette party yet?”

“A what?” She drew out the word, staring at him long and hard, an excited glint in her green eyes.

“Richard, you can’t possible be implying you’re going to take Beverly out on the town.” Maggie snorted in incredulity. She must have seen the seriousness in his expression then because she was soon covering his face, shaking her head in disbelief. “Wentworth, tell our son he’s not going to do that!” She cried.

“Oh, but I think he is, Maggie, and I think we’re powerless to stop it. And besides…” He slid a fifty over the table to Richie, nodding his approval. “You were saying he had to get out of the house, weren’t you?”

Richie had a feeling that she hadn’t meant like this, but he’d take it. He felt his lips tip up at the corners, a beginnings of a smile, which Bev returned full on moments later. “How we gonna get there, Tozier?” She questioned, finishing off the rest of her wine in one fell swoop.

It was a matter of luck and chance, but he was willing to take it. “...I think I know a guy.”

-

Eddie pulled up and looked at them both.

“Beverly?” He ventured after a moment.

“You’ve been talking about me!” She crowed in response, throwing her mittened hands up into the air. “I don’t know you though, little man.” She brought them back down and pointed at him, squinting savagely.

“Little!” It was Eddie’s time to crow now, a mix of disbelief and delight. Bev had that effect on people, after all. “I don’t think I want this one in my car.”

Richie’s lips pulled up at the corner despite himself. “Well, you’re gonna have to get over it, Eds, we got a last second bachelorette party to start.” Boy, that was a sentence, alright.

Eddie stared at both of them blankly before giving a bark of a laugh. “God, Richard-”

“Richie.” He corrected him, per usual.

He shook his head and grinned. “You lead quite the interesting life.”

Yeah. He kind of did, didn’t he? Things had never been this interesting back in LA. What made Derry so damn special, anyways? Richie still couldn’t put his thumb on it. “I’m an international man of mystery and intrigue Eddie. You never know what I’ll do next.”

Bev grabbed his arm and squeezed it, tight. He opened his mouth to ask her what the hell was going on but she was already slipping into the back. He had a choice. He could either sit next to Bev in the back or take the seat in the front next to Eddie. What to do, what to do…

“Tozier, get in the back with me, loser.” Bev demanded, making the decision for him.

“Duty calls.” He informed Eddie before squeezing into the seat next to his best friend. Immediately she was leaned into him, her phone shoved into her face, the words blurring until he blinked them into meaning.

**HE IS CUTE!!!**

Richie felt himself pinken before nodding. Bev pulled her phone back and tapped out another few words before handing the phone back to him. **ASK HIM OUT!**

“Bev!” He hissed out in warning, beginning to realize what a terrible idea this was.

“Yes?” She sang back, sounding much more innocent than she actually was, a compact pulled out as she checked her makeup. “How can I help you, Richard?”

“What’re you two up to back there? Don’t make me turn this car around.” Eddie teased from the front. Richie gave Bev a warning look, which she completely ignored, snapping her compact shut.

“We were talking about our plans for the night. Debauchery and drunken revelry, the like. What about you, Mr. Lyft Driver. What are you up to on this beautiful Friday night?” Terrible, awful woman. How dare she? Richie nudged her in the side hard, glaring, but she kept ignoring him. Eddie glanced back at them in the rearview mirror, brows inching upwards in response. “Because if you didn’t have anything planned, I think… and Richie thinks… that you should join us on our escapades!”

“I did NO-” Before he could finish his sentence Bev was digged her heel into his foot, causing him to whimper. “ _Ghkk!_ ”

“Who else is all invited?” Eddie asked, apparently interested enough.

“Uh, so far just you, me, and trash mouth here.” Bev ruffled his hair, causing the curls to fall over his glasses. “It’ll be a blast. Just a few drinks, maybe some impromptu stripping, you never know. It is a bachelorette party, after all” She waggled her eyebrows, visible only to Richie. This bitch. He could strangle her. He could kiss her. He settled on shoving her shoulder instead, shaking his head at her furiously. “C’mon, say yes, it’ll be fun! I can finally set the record straight on everything Richie’s said about me.”

“Oh, so far all of it seems pretty accurate, Beverly.” Eddie smirked, causing Richie to fall in love with him a little more. “But there’s always room for second chances, I suppose.”

“Well don’t I feel special.” She intoned. “Say yes, damn it. What else do you’ve got to do?”

Richie looked up and found Eddie looking at him. Not them. Just specifically him. The earlier heat hadn’t left his cheeks and now it was ten times worse. “Yeah, Bev’s right.” He finally croaked out. “You should come.” This was the only chance he’d get, probably. Might as well throw all caution to the wind now.

Better to regret asking rather than regret never asking at all.

“I just don’t know.” Eddie mused in a low voice, his eyes still holding Richie’s. “Should I stay or should I go? I could make more money tonight, but…”

Bev must have noticed that Richie was completely useless when it came to speaking to the other male, especially when Eddie stared at him like that. She came to his rescue then, crowding into his personal space as she nodded eagerly. “Cave to the peer pressure and say yes, Eddie. First drink’s on Richie. You know, because it’s my party, after all. So say yes. Please, please, please say yes!”

“Ah, gosh, you drive a hard bargain.” Eddie sighed dramatically. “I _guess_ I’m gonna have to say yes.” And then he winked.

At least, Richie had sworn he had winked. It wasn’t like rewinding audio to make sense of it. He only had his shoddy memory and the streetlights flashing above head to help him figure it out, and neither of those were doing him any favors.

Whatever, he’d figure it out later.

In no time in all they found themselves at the hottest bar downtown Derry had to offer, staring at it like they were eighteen and hoisting fake IDs rather than confident and competent legal drinking adults. How had he gone from narrowly avoiding Stan and Mike to being here, plastered between Eddie and Bev, the past meeting the present, didn’t make a lick of sense to him, but Richie would take it.

He kind of had to, after all.

“This is what kids do now?” Bev said under her breath, painted by the strobing lights, nearly drowned out by the muffled bass from inside. “Eddie, is this what kids do?”

“Okay, just because I’m twenty three doesn’t mean I know what the kids do nowadays.” Eddie muttered. Okay, there was another fact to pocket away. Eddie was twenty three. Good to know. “This is… a lot…”

“I mean, you should see the places in LA.” He had finally found his voice again, happy to have found his usual confidence again. “This is like, nothing.”

“Then go inside, why don’t you?” Bev challenged him, shoving him from behind. “Double dog dare ya, Tozier.”

The good ol’ double dog dare. He rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, rubbing his finger across the cold tip of his nose. He wouldn’t take the bait though. “Ah, now see, that’s the thing…” He blew out a breath, watching it puff in the freezing air. “I don’t actually like, go to them, I just study them from afar.”

“Regard them from a distance respectfully?” Eddie offered.

“Give them a wide berth.” Bev followed up, nodding in agreement.

“Exactly.” He said with a clap of his hands. “ _Egg-zac-lee_.”

None of them moved.

“...I’m getting cold.” Eddie finally told them after another minute. “So, like, can we make a decision?”

Bev grabbed his hand and Eddie’s and began to drag them forward, being the most Bev she could be in that moment. Richie wished she had waited just a little while longer though. He had that ugly scarf his mom had made for him, the perfect compliment to Eddie’s pristine peacoat. He could see it now. Unwrapping it from his neck before draping it around the other’s, tugging him in close, smiling just so, watching Eddie blush in response. He’d finally turn the tables on the other. Get the upper hand. Ask for his personal number, at the very least!

But now he was just trailing after one of his best friends as Eddie laughed and laughed, pealing and loud. It was perfect in another way. Not expected but blessed all the same. “She really is a handful.” Eddie said to him when they came to a stop.

“She’s the kind of woman your mom warns you about.” Richie said back in a low voice. “And that’s why you love her.”

“I can tell.” Bev was flashing her ID at the doorman, hip cocked out, chin tipped up to make up for the fact that she wasn’t more than five feet zero-zero-zero on the dot. “Like you can’t help it, yanno!” They showed their IDs next and then they were inside, Eddie cringing at the increased bass. “Oh God. Oh, this is… This is bad.” And it was. Strobe lights, dubstep, near naked bodies, the three of them looking stupidly out of place among it all.

“You’re telling me!” Richie shouted back. “C’mon.” Now was the time. The perfect excuse. Bev was already too far ahead of them, her hair the only beacon to be seen for miles. Richie touched Eddie’s wrist first, then his hand, letting his digits trail over the younger boy’s. Please. Something inside of him begged. Please, please, please.

Eddie’s fingers knocked back against his and just like that they were tangled up and inseparable.

They were holding hands!

Score one to you, Tozier!

There were so many people, so many moving bodies that had so many different conversations going on. Richie didn’t care about any of them though. He just cared about how soft and warm Eddie’s hand felt in his, how right it was. Did he feel the same way? He wanted to ask but he knew better not to. Don’t make it weird. Just take what you can get. You’ll be back in LA soon and none of this will matter. “Bev!” He yelled above the din. “Bitch!”

“Bastard!” She screamed back, already seated imperiously at the bar, drawing all eyes to her. She was a queen, an icon, a femme fatale in every right. How Ben did it, Richie didn’t know. “I want shots! Do you want shots, Edward?”

“One of us needs to be able to drive, Beverly.” Eddie informed her.

“Yeah, but it’s ONE shot. Just ONE! C’mon, for me? Your newest, bestest friend?” She batted her eyelashes, really playing it up. No one said no to Beverly Marsh. No one.

Except for Eddie, apparently. “I’ll just take a hard cider, thank you.”

“How refined!” Richie half blurted, half marveled. Eddie squeezed his hand, because someway somehow they were still holding onto one another, something that Richie was simultaneously amazed he had managed and yet not surprised at all. “Okay, two shots and a hard cider. Sounds good to me.”

“Bah, fine, I guess.” Bev pouted, but there was a silent appreciation in her eyes, just like all those years ago on the playground.

Eddie, it seemed, was on his way to becoming a Loser.

Richie wondered if he was on his way out.

Only the night would tell.

-

They had found a little corner where the music wasn’t as loud, but the drinks were poured just as readily, and he was drunk.

Like _druuuuunk_.

He and Bev had been swapping stories for the past hour and a half, telling Eddie (who’s last name was Kaspbrak, Richie now knew) all sorts of amazing tales from their childhood. He had started leaned up against Bev, tipping back drink after drink, but now he had found his way to the other male and it was absolute bliss.

“So. So, so, so!” Bev was tittering, her coat long gone, arms flailing freely. “He’s up on stage, right? Sweatin’ bullets!”

“Never ‘spected me to get up there!” He had been the sub for the lead role because of very, very strange circumstances. The lines part had been easy, and delivering them all too enjoyable for Richie, but the singing…

“And he just opens his mouth and-” She did it then, the crackled, warbling series of notes that he had to sing all those years ago, the words slurred into meaninglessness in her drunken state. “FUCK! ‘nd Billy’s in the audience, laughing his ass off! Like cannot stop!”

“It was... a nightmare...” He informed Eddie in the most sober voice he could manage, which was not sober at all. “But it was also literally the most amazin thing to happen, ever.”

Bev hiccuped out a laugh before standing abruptly. “Gotta pee.” She blurted before teetering off in the direction of the bathroom. At least, Richie _hoped_ it was in the direction of the bathroom. He snorted under his breath and shook his head before looking at Eddie, who was looking at Bev with the perfect amount of concern.

“Handsome.” It was out before Richie could help himself, because it was true.

“Huh?” Eddie looked down at him, showing off even _more_ of his handsome face.

He went hot first, then cold. Fuck, save face, fast. “Uh, I mean… Han...Hanscom. She’s gunna be a Hanscom soon. I still can’t…” He covered his face and let out a soft groan. “Fuck, ‘m drunk.”

Eddie let out a fond laugh. “Yeah, just a lil.” And then it happened.

Eddie smoothed back his hair, so careful that Richie was sure he had gone and imagined it. Because there was no way Eddie Kaspbrak could be touching him right here, right now, with the kind of ease that only practiced lovers had.

But he was. He really, really was.

There were no words in that moment. Not because there wasn’t a need for them, but because they couldn’t be made in a time like this. Words were all Richie knew. How to yield them in such a way that he could make anyone laugh or react in the way he wanted, but when it came to Eddie he always ended coming up short.

“Come to the wedding with me.” It was very nearly a demand, softened only by the alcoholic slosh that coated his every word. Eddie blinked at him for a moment, his fingers still tangled in his hair, before leaning in closer with a confused tilt of his head.

“Say that again?” It wasn’t a challenge. It was a legitimate request. Richie swallowed at the nearness, let his tongue dart out to wet his bottom lip.

“I said come to the wedding with me.” He said again, a bit more hoarsely, a lot more coherently though at least. 

Eddie continued to stare at him and Richie wondered if he had gone and done something stupid, but then he laughed because stupid was all that he did. Winging it at it’s core came down to being stupid and running with it after all. His whole life had been based around stupid decisions, so what was yet another one on top of it all? "Like a... a fake date, yanno. Jus' so I can impress m'friends...Like... like'n the movies..." That was supposed to be his saving grace but it was even worse now, he could tell.

The other boy’s hands moved down from his hair to his face, cradling it oh so carefully. “Richie, I...” He murmured carefully, his thumb brushing against the swell of his cheekbone. It wasn’t fair. Eddie couldn’t touch him like this, look at him like this without saying yes. It wasn’t allowed… He gave a sniff and then another, blinking only to feel a tear slip down his cheek.

Fuck. When had he started crying? Was he really crying for the second time today? Oh no, no, no.

Eddie’s whole expression crumpled. No, this was the exact opposite of what he wanted, but Richie was helpless to stop it. “‘M sorry.” He slurred miserably. “I just… I jus…” He didn’t want Eddie seeing him like this or Bev either, but his body refused to move. “Stan’n’Mike’n’Bill hate me and just you wait, Bev will too. It just… It takes just one lil’ thing, jus’ one lil-lil thing.”

“Oh Richie, they don’t hate you.” But Eddie didn’t know. Didn’t get it. He wasn’t a Loser. He wasn’t one of them.

“They should though. I left… I left them. Didn’t even say guh’bye.” More tears were starting to fall and it was god awful. He hated this. This weakness, this inability to make it right again. “I shudda never… never ever…” Richie hiccuped and grimaced, not liking how he could taste acid and liquor in his mouth once more. “Fuck.”

Eddie heaved a sad sigh. “Oh Richie.” He said, wiping tear after endless tear. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He murmured in a soft and worried voice.

They were hugging then, neither of them starting it so much as both of them falling against one another and meeting in the middle. Eddie touched the back of his head before letting his fingers skim down the length of his spine, humming in a comforting way. “It’s gonna be okay.” Eddie whispered as Richie clung to him. “It’s all gonna work out.”

Richie whimpered. “‘Nd what if it doesn’t?”

“Well then we weren’t good friends, now were we?”

They both looked up and saw Bev there, her hands on her hips, her gaze just slightly unfocused. “Oh ‘Chee.” She lamented. “Whatever are we gunna do with you?”

Good question. He shrugged, helpless, still cradled up against Eddie’s smaller form. It was the only comfort he knew in that moment, not trusting himself with anything else. “Kaspbrak, ‘m gonna have to ask you another favor.” Bev started.

“Oh?” He asked, tilting his head at her.

Her following grin was lopsided and drunk, making her look infinitely young. “Whaddaya say about coming to my wedding?”

Eddie looked at her and then he looked at him. Richie was frozen in place. Oh God, oh God, oh God. “Well,” Eddie started. “You’re in luck, Beverly Marsh. Mr. Tozier here already asked me, so now I have to say yes.”

“Oh.” Richie said aloud.

Oh God.

-

A first date probably shouldn’t take place at a wedding, but Richie Tozier wasn’t ever one for societal norms. In fact, he made sure to break them as often as possible.

He was also running stupidly, painfully late, and that was not helping the situation whatsoever.

“Ma! Mooooommmm!” He yelled down the hallway, pulling on his last sock. “Help!”

Maggie came to his doorway, shaking her head in disbelief. “Richie.” She said in a damning tone. “You are twenty five and you don’t know how to tie a tie? Where did I go wrong? Where did your father go wrong? Are we… are we bad parents, Richie?”

He bit back an annoyed groan. “Yes, now make up for the fact by tieing my damn tie, woman.” The words were barely out of his mouth when Maggie came up behind him and smacked the back of his head, causing him to gasp in pain. “OW, MOM!”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Richard Thomas Tozier.” Maggie grabbed his ear then, tutting her tongue. “I raised you better than that!”

He threw up his hands, gaping in disbelief. “YOU JUST SAID YOU WERE A BAD PARENT! MAKE UP YOUR MIND!”

His dad showed up at that exact moment, watching them with an amused expression. “You two having fun in here?”

“Loads.” They said in unison before they looked at each other and laughed. His mom let go of his ear and moved her hands to his tie then, looping it over itself. “Oh Richie, Richie Richie Richie.” She gave a little sniff then, a whimper caught in her throat.

“Oh mom, don’t-” But lo and behold Maggie Tozier was bawling her eyes out, like it was his wedding instead of his best friend’s. “It’s okay, it’s okay! Seriously, it’s just a tie.”

“But you look so handsome! And you’re so grown up! And I-I…” Wentworth came into the room, laughing under his breath and he wrapped his arms around his crying wife. “Oh Went! That’s our little boy!” She moaned.

“That’s him alright Mags.” Oh God. This was the best kind of embarrassment he could experience in his life. He wrapped his arms around his parents tight and quick, giving them a fast hug before pulling away again.

“We can sit and cry more on Christmas, but I gotta go, now. I love you both. Seriously. And I’m… I’m sorry for not coming home more.” Richie admitted, fixing his glasses as he looked away. “I’m gonna try and fix that. But we can talk about that later, okay? Because I’m super, super late.”

“And who’s fault is that, Rich?” His dad gave a loud chuckle, clearly amused. “Now go on, have fun tonight, and don’t get too drunk.” Oh God, when Eddie had brought him home after Bev’s “bachelorette party” it had been the absolute worse. He had spent most of the night hugging the porcelain, puking everything up again until the sun came up.

Richie held his hands up, making a face. “I know, I know. Keep the door unlocked and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Was it weird that his parents weren’t coming? Not really. They were kind of recluses like that. Him on the other hand? Complete opposite. Extrovert to the max. He was halfway out the door when his mom called after him, causing him to come to a complete stop. “MOM. COME ON.”

“You can’t forget your scarves!” Scarves? Plural? She came flying at him not only with the green one, but another one too, this one as bright as holly on a cold Christmas night… “For you and for your new _friend_!” She hadn’t. Oh, but she had. Richie gathered them up into his arm, laughing under his breath in amazement. “See, I’m getting better! This one’s much less lumpy, right?”

Richie threw his arms around his mom once more, squeezing her extra tight. “Thank you.” God, it was perfect. Had she seen Eddie’s car? Did she somehow just know? He couldn’t ask her right now, it’d have to wait until later. Much, much later. Oh God, he was getting distracted. “Thank you, thank you thank you thank you. I gotta go now. I love you, so much!” He flew out the door…

...and right into Eddie.

Eddie stood there in that damn peacoat of his, ears covered by a fashionable pair of earmuffs, cheeks made pink by the cold. “I thought you had died.” He gave a huff of amusement, eyes lighting up. “...Wait, why do you have two scarves?”

“My mom! My mom made uh, you one, and me one. Mine’s old, and lumpy, but it’s still good, it’s just yours is like, better yanno?” Oh Lord, he could shut up any minute now. “And it’s red.” He added at the last second, managing a half hearted grin.

Eddie’s eyes lit up in delight. “Oh God, did she plan that? Did she see my car? Are we... matching, Mister Tozier?” The last part was phrased slow and sweetly, made even better yet by the way the younger boy smiled at him, dimples and all, just like the first time.

“Are we, Mister Kaspbrak?” Richie breathed back, suddenly not caring how late they were.

Eddie must have read his mind, because he was rocking back on his heels, pulling Richie along with. “We’re _definitely_ running late, so let’s go.”

The moment they were in the car Eddie was wrapping his scarf around his neck, looking absolutely adorable the moment he was done. Would it be weird to say that? They were on a date, after all. At least, Richie was 99% sure they were. He was still hesitant. But then again, he was the trash mouth of the group, no filter whatsoever. Might as well do it. “...It looks good.” Richie informed him. “Like, really good.”

“Yeah?” Eddie peeked over at him, mouth hidden by length of the scarf, making his expression a mystery. “So do you.”

“I didn’t-” Richie started.

“I know.” Eddie cut him off, smirking all the while.

Oh God.

Oh wow.

They started driving then, a little faster than Derry’s speed limit permitted, but no one had to know but them. Christmas music filled the silence, broken only when Richie couldn’t help himself and started to sing along, trying to ignore his escalating nerves. “Oh God, Beverly’s right, you’re awful! Stop! Stop!” Eddie reached over, trying to slap him without actually looking. Richie laughed then, unable to help himself.

“I’m having fun, Eds! F-U-N. Let me live!”

They pulled up and parked and hurried into the front doors. Everyone was settling into the chairs, wearing their finest, and all the spots were gone except for next to Mike and Stan.

Mike and Stan!

Richie jerked Eddie back to the front door, his panic reaching a fever pitch. This was worse than the library, worse than Henry, worse than anything else so far. “Give me your scarf.” He hissed. “I need your scarf.”

Eddie’s brows jumped. “Why in God’s name would you need my scarf?” He hissed back.

“So I can hide, damn it!”

An older couple that Richie didn’t know shushed them. His shoulders shot up around his ears and he went about covering his face, hoping they wouldn’t draw anymore attention. “Please, Eds, scarf me…”

“I am not giving you my scarf, because it’s my scarf, and because you cannot hide from your friends any longer. Now get your ass over there.”

Richie was pretty sure he whined low in his throat in response, but Eddie’s damning glare was unavoidable. Fine. Face your fears. For real this time, Tozier. He took a deep breath before he did, steeling himself against the worst. It was like stepping into Henry’s car, making his way up those steps, one foot at a time until he reached his end goal.

“Gentlemen.” He addressed them in a squawking, strangled voice, causing them to look up in confusion until they placed his face.

“Richie?” Mike reacted first, brown eyes rounding with shock. “Holy shit, Richie Tozier!” That, of course, got them another chorus of shushes and hushes, followed by all sorts of glare. “Look Stan, Richie’s here!”

So Bill hadn’t told them. Richie wasn’t sure whether he should be upset or thankful, so instead he offered his old friends a weak smile instead. “Yup, couldn’t keep me away.”

Stan’s look was much slower, more calculated, eyes narrowed as he studied him with a slow huff through his nose. “Richie.” He finally said. “Good to see you again.”

Was it? He wanted to ask, but once again there wasn’t time for questions. He simply gave a tight nod of his head before sitting next to Mike, letting Eddie take the spot to the right of him. Just a few more hours of this and you were home free, Tozier. You were doing this for Ben and Bev… and maybe a little for Eddie too.

Everything after that was picture perfect. The organ started up, Ben, slimmer now than when they had been in high school, entered in from the side with Bill at his side, and then Bev came in.

She was a dream in a high collared, sleeveless number, made of lace and froth. She had to have made it herself, Richie supposed. Ben’s face lit up in that smile they all knew and loved and Richie felt at peace in that very moment.

Everything was finally right.

Eddie touched his hand, nearly causing him to jump out of his skin, but he simply gripped it back in silence, fighting back happy tears. “‘M glad you invited me.” Eddie whispered near his ear. “This is beautiful.”

“You’re telling me.” He had almost missed this. Had really considered staying away from his family and friends just because he was a little scared. “...Thank you.” He said to Eddie in a low voice then, squeezing his hand tight.

“Why are _you_ thanking _me?_ ”

For giving me more strength than you could ever imagine, for helping me figure all this shit out. “For saying yes.” A pause then in which he couldn’t help but grin. “And for working at 5 AM and bringing me home.”

They were exchanging the vows now, and the moment they kissed a flurry of fake snow came down upon their heads. “Fucking. Bev.” Richie couldn’t help but laugh. She looked pleased as punch up there as she wrapped her arms around Ben, pressing her lips to his, the two of them the perfect pair.

Eddie was laughing too, reaching up to brush the snow out of Richie’s hair, practically glowing. “She really went and did that.” Mike was laughing now too and so was Stan, the two of them leaned into one another in pure delight. He could even hear Bill from afar and Georgie too.

Just like old times.

Just like how it was supposed to be.

-

_My name is Richie Tozier. And this is the story about how I met my best friends again, and about how I stopped winging it. At least, winging it as much as usual._

_If you haven’t heard of Derry, Maine, I wouldn’t be surprised! If you have, you’re probably into serial killers, especially those of the clown kind. That’s right! I grew up in the city where Pennywise the Dancing Clown came from, straight out of the classic 80s horror movie trend. But this isn’t a story about him, that freak, this is a story about me, which is infinitely less interesting and definitely less gorey, so I’ve got that going for me, I guess._

_If you’ve ever gone on a soul searching journey like I did when I graduated from high school on the West Coast (I know, weirdly specific) you know how easy it is to lose track of your family and friends. But what it really boils down to is if you’re able to find them again. And, given the first line of this article, I was successful at._

_But boy, was it a mess at the start._

_I’m friends with Bill Denbrough, Stanley Uris, Mike Hanlon, and Beverly and Ben Hanscom. (I know, that's a lot of famous names!) Let me tell you how weird it is not to write Beverly Marsh, by the way. That’s the reason I went home, though. Those two got married! I’m also friends with someone known as Eddie Kaspbrak, who’s infinitely less famous than the rest of those former individuals, but definitely better than the rest._

_(Don’t tell Bev I said that.)_

_(PS Bev if you’re reading this, I’m sorry and I love you. Please don't kill me.)_

_I actually avoided most of my problems until Ben and Bev said “I do.” It was simultaneously the best and worst decision of my life. Take it from me, you don’t want to have a verbal confrontation on the dance floor of a wedding while Ariana Grande plays. It’s just really, really weird. But that definitely happened._

_I had a lot to own up to. Straight up ditching my friends was pretty shitty of me. Trust me, I got an earful from Stan about exactly that, I think he was the most frustrated out of all the group cos Stan doesn't really like sudden change (sorry for the callout post, Stan, you're a good man) but after a little contemplation and a lot of champagne we figured a lot of shit out about ourselves. That’s what your twenties are about, right? (Side note: if you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing and you’re in your twenties, don’t sweat it, you’re going be a-okay.)_

_Also, I found out that I was supposed to be Bill’s gift to Bev and Ben (surprise!!!) but that didn’t exactly worked out as planned. Typical. We did manage to surprise Big Ben though!_

_Double also, I still owe Ben and Bev a gift of my own. Whoops._

_I threw Eddie smack dab into the middle of all of this and he took it all in stride. And that’s why he’s kind of my boyfriend now, because he’s literally the thing that keeps me sane and on top of my game. And because he’s cute. And I’m kind of in love with him._

_But this is about me, not about him, or us for that matter! Even though it’s kind of, sort of about us._

_I stayed in Derry over Christmas and didn’t turn this article in on time, much to the frustration amazing and godly Rochelle’s Martinet (yes she made me write that) but it all worked out in the end, because I’m going into the new year a happier, more proactive man._

_Also, a man in a brand spanking new relationship, mind you._

_I’ll be graduating soon, and I’ll actually be returning to Derry. So is this goodbye readers? Probably not. I’ve got a few projects that allow for the long distance, so you can’t get rid of me that easily._

_And if you must know before we depart, me and Eddie’s first kiss was under the mistletoe on Derry’s first snow fall of the year! I just couldn’t help myself. It’s a Christmas tradition after all, and probably the reason why I was able to turn this article in late. Rochelle’s a romantic, after all, just like me._

_(And yes, it was absolutely perfect, even if there wasn’t any tongue.)_

_Anyways, that’s the beginning of the Richie Tozier story. Maybe if you join the Losers you can hear the rest._

_What are the Losers, exactly? Well… that’s a story for another day._

_Adios, my friends. And a belated Feliz Navidad!_

-

“You finally done over there?”

Richie threw back the last of his hot chocolate before pressing send. Yes, it was done and over with, finally. He had a feeling Rochelle would love it, even if it was being sent in late and in a weird future-past tense kind of voice. They'd make it work somehow. Richie glanced back and saw Eddie curled up on his bed, wearing in the ugliest Christmas sweater he had ever seen.

Mostly because it had come from his own closet, and Richie Tozier would be damned if didn’t absolutely kill it in that category.

“Pushy, pushy.” Richie waggled his finger at him before making his way to the bed. He fell into it, into Eddie, sighing all the while.

“Clingy, clingy.” Eddie countered as Richie wrapped his arms around him, the sound of his soft voice in person better than any recording he ever managed to capture, especially when he touched him like this.

Richie pressed his lips to Eddie’s freckled cheek, brushing his lips across the warm skin there. “You love it though.” And despite Eddie’s pouting lips and over exaggerated glare Richie knew. He really, truly knew that Eddie Kaspbrak did.

Especially when Eddie finally relented and kissed him, their lips finding each other in the near dark.

And just like with the wedding, just like coming back to Derry…

It really was perfect after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas to reddies-spaghetti !!! i took a lil liberty with the "fake date thing" and "secret santa" since this got SUPER out of hand in the best way but I still hope you really, really enjoy it <3
> 
> Also lyrics and title were YOINKED from good ol Sufjan Stevens. The man knows how to make a good Christmas song for sure.


End file.
